neglected and forgotten
like the fridge in the garage
my thoughts the neighbors casserole rotting in the back
my emotions bottles of beer long forgotten from warm july-s
my words a tub of ice cream in the back
sweet and freezer-burned waiting to be eaten
heard

Little things could turn the world
like knowing your favorite coffee and on how I could easily notice you on the way you laugh.
I know how strawberry ice cream tastes different as it looks better on your lips.

One time, we went on a secret room, I would love to be with you in that place because you are the first one I took there. Inside, there's a lot of mirror reflecting each side of your delicate and beautiful skin.

As I watched you glimmer, you are so amazed of how much I keep that place just for you.

And little did I know that you are looking from afar though, I only fix my eyes on you.

And there's an another cup of strawberry ice cream, one spoon for two.

But not with me.

Sweet vanilla kisses, amid an explosion of bubblegum sauce.
With lips now blue, we break and share a flake;
The chocolate melting in our mouths,
Like my heart, the first time I met you.
“You’ve got a bit on your nose," I say.
Laughing, you wipe it away elegantly.
Fresh strawberries planted in eager mouths,
Excited eyes blazing in the sun.
This love is intoxicating.
Sinking satisfyingly into a strawberry bliss,
Summer love is planted on the tongue.
Savouring: the taste, the moment,
savouring the one.

~
Love is the painting
every heart hopes to achieve,
sifting through seldom
looked upon pictures,
we came upon this masterpiece:

The little boy pensive
just to hold the hand
of his darling,
and skipping along
we played to this game,
giggling in each other's ear,
yet, with only sweet innocent thoughts.

The daytime summer sun
meant a twirl in the air,
a ride on the swing,
and an ice cream to share.

As children love
was an amusement ride,
just leisure fun we never took seriously,
as adults love achieved art,
developing a magnum opus
rich in its own poetry.

The young man proud
just to hold the hand of his darling,
and strolling along their game matures,
they whisper in each other's ear,
yet, with each word the balance
of their intimate thoughts so rest.

The dazzled moonlight of evening
means an aura in the air,
the anticipated kiss it will bring,
and maybe an ice cream to share.

We were never good at every sport,
but somehow this one
came so natural for us,
and so we too were an art
unto ourselves.
~

i. a summer day, sticky hot, i can feel the sweat running down my back. the sun shines without mercy. an ice cream cone sits in my hand as i wonder who will come to end my bitter loneliness.

ii. the boy reeks of summer, his smile radiating from his mouth just as the sun radiates heat. he doesn’t eat ice cream, he says, something about being lactose intolerant? i can’t focus on anything but his sparkling hazel eyes.

iii.  it’s still warm but not uncomfortably so. we’re seated on the green grass. it’s evening and the sun has begin to sink beneath the horizon. purple and rose hues take over the blue of the sky as we watch in awe. i don’t know what happens but suddenly our eyes are off the sky and on each other. his lips taste like a cherry popsicle.

iv. we have late nights every day watching the stars. each star makes me wonder, in a world as fantastically cosmic as ours, how did i have the fortune to meet you? i wonder if you are thinking the same thing. every day the same thing happens and every day i don’t know what led to it but now our eyes and sticky hands and sweet lips are on each other and now it is the stars’ turn to watch us.

v. he loves ice cream but it isn’t good for him.

vi. every time i eat a cherry popsicle i think of the boy with the hazel eyes.

Icecream you are a sick disease
But here I am
With a spoon in my mouth,
Eating you up like a champ,
Licking every last drop in the bowl,
Believing I am the sickness
And you are the cure
You are the future
You stop time
Dead in its tracks
You reroute the train
Long after its detailed
So I stop and I think
Dr icecream
You are  hired !

The long steps down
to the green sea
sweeping black-green seaweed
high on the sand seen
from the empty band stand
on the cliff top gardens
chased by screaming
ice-cream hunters
are each
rife
with salty memory
and I drink it in